


Improper

by PurpleProsaist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Public Display of Affection, Samfro Week, Samfro Week Autumn 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 03:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleProsaist/pseuds/PurpleProsaist
Summary: "Hasn't anyone ever told you, Sam?"





	Improper

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Illegible_Scribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble) in the [SeasonalSamfro_Autumn_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SeasonalSamfro_Autumn_2019) collection. 

> **Prompt:** color
> 
> For Wednesday, September 25th.

He hadn't meant to do this. Truly, he hadn't. It had been a mere whimsy, one meant to be kept eternally condemned to the confines of his own imagination. One he had successfully kept so countless times already. 

Sam can no longer recall any names for whatever emotions had quashed his last remaining thread of hobbit-sense, but now he has found himself in the middle of the crowded market street with his lips pressed to his master's cheek. He can, however, recall very many names for himself. 

He tries to withdraw, quick as he can, but it suddenly feels as though every bone in his body has been replaced with molasses. With his mind moving at such a panicked rate, he's able to pick out one feeling, just one of many, before his eyes can fly open again — _thanksgiving... thankfulness_. It's at least an acceptable enough emotion to say aloud, for which it multiplies itself over. Still, he knows that no grand amount of gratitude could ever be any excuse for such a blatant breach of propriety. No, invading his master's space, disrespecting his authority afore half of Hobbiton could never count as "thanking" him nohow. The urge had felt so pure, but it hadn't been worth it. Sam opens his eyes, and all he can see is Frodo beaming at him. 

Maybe it had been worth it. 

Yet the apology is no less necessary. Sam stammers helplessly and presses a hand over his own heart as though he can quell its hammering by a mere touch — although the motion belies no lack of sincerity either. "I'm sorry! I... Begging your pardon, sir, I just... Tha-that was just so improper of me, and I really oughtn't've done—" A dearest hand alights softly on his shoulder then, numbing his thoughts, dumbing his words. 

"Hasn't anyone ever told you, Sam?" Frodo asks with his eyes set all aglimmer in the sun. "Improper is the most beautiful color on you." 

He briefly nuzzles Sam's cheek in return, then turns on his heel and continues on in apparent nonchalance. Sam follows soon after on wobbly legs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps it's poor form to leave out something as big as, you know, what exactly Sam was so grateful for. Truthfully, this is a scene I've been sitting on for awhile, and I still haven't decided for myself what exactly leads up to it. Probably some pretty big & unexpected gesture, at least to Sam's thinking but maybe not to Frodo's, which could be a plausible number of things, right? I'm being perfectionist and not wanting to decide and write it down until I'm certain I won't end up going with something else, but's been no less quality daydream fodder for that lack of specific detail, so I figured something of some worth to someone out there might still be produced of it. It might have never been written at all otherwise, so when the prompt "color" reminded me of it, I took it as my sign to finally just put it down as is. 


End file.
